


Beautiful, Innocent, Eternal

by h_itoshi



Category: Hey! Say! JUMP
Genre: Character Death, I'm sorry about the 500 warnings I'm pretty sure there's more that I forgot right now, Increasing obsession, Lots and lots of smut, M/M, Objectification, Possibly confusing tense but hopefully not, Prostitution, Rape, Sexuality Issues, Stalking, a bit of blood, violence warning just in case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-07 00:33:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15897294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h_itoshi/pseuds/h_itoshi
Summary: Yuto's not gay. He likes women's laughter and long nails and their perfume and the way their skin feels soft under his fingertips. The idea of sleeping with another man is almost repulsive to him when he pictures a man in a sexual way. But then there's him. It's all his fault.Ryosuke.





	Beautiful, Innocent, Eternal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thesecretdoor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesecretdoor/gifts).



> Dearest recipient. I got really curious to try out your darkfic prompts and ended up with a little bit of everything I feel like. I have no idea if this is to your taste, but I'm kind of satisfied with the result so I hope you will be too~ <3
> 
> (Also huge thanks to my beta for dealing with me throughout this monsterfic orz)

“Nakajima, are you working late again?” The tone is teasing and Yuto senses the skeptically raised eyebrow despite not looking up to confirm it.

“Just some numbers left to look over.” He replies fleetingly, and he hears the sighs of the girls leaving on time.

“Good luck with that, see you tomorrow.” They tell him, and Yuto absently waves goodbye without looking up from his computer screen. Not that he actually looks at it right now, but his gaze stuck and he has to wait for them to leave.

He scrolls up and down in his document a couple times even though there's nobody left in his office block to see him, carefully listening for the clicking heels and female laughter disappearing with the soft dinging of the elevator.

He draws a deep breath, realizes he's frowning and makes an effort to relax his features even as his heartbeat speeds up.

His fingers move automatically on the keyboard, and he knows he should feel worse than he does. More guilty, like he did the first time. Sweaty hands, pulse beating in his ears, breaths quick and shallow. But he doesn't anymore.

It's so easy he's surprised nobody else does it. Maybe they do and he just doesn't notice, he muses as he clicks confirm on the button that transfers 50 000 yen from today's profit to his own bank account. The perks of being highly ranked on your department is rarely being the subject of scrutiny. If someone were to find him out, he's still confident he could talk his way out of the worst penalties.

After all, they aren't large sums at once, just enough not to be noticed, but the money piles up in his own accounts. He needs it.

He takes his time logging out from his computer, thinking that tomorrow, he'll have enough again. Enough for a full hour with _him_.

The idea disgusts as much as it excites him, the mixed thrill of conflicting emotions coursing up his spine and twisting his mind.

Yuto's not gay. He likes women's laughter and long nails and their perfume and the way their skin feels soft under his fingertips. The idea of sleeping with another man is almost repulsive to him when he pictures a man in a sexual way. But then there's him. It's all his fault.

Ryosuke.

Two months ago, Yuto never would have thought about paying for sexual services in any way. He's fairly good looking, tall and decently charming. He's never had troubles finding someone to help him out entirely for free whenever he's had urges.

But then he went out with Keito and Masaki. He should have known letting Masaki choose the club was stupid, but so far it's never been a disaster so he just went along with it. Except when they stepped inside, the way inside slim and dark and lit in dim red, Yuto already knew this was going to be porny. However, he expected girls in skimpy underwear, sparkly nipple covers and high heels, not ridiculously attractive, androgynous men in slipping kimonos and dark eyeliner.

“This is a great place!” Masaki had half yelled over the sultry music, eyes sparkling with mischief and chemical bliss as he motioned the burning cigarette towards the dance floor, leaving a circle of smoke in the air. “I don't care how straight you are, you should try one of these!”

Keito's face was scandalized even through the haze of vodka, flinching a little as a heavily perfumed man slid past their table, close enough for the silk sleeve to brush Keito's arm.

But Yuto couldn't make himself feel as grossed out, knowing very well Masaki's tendency to tease, challenge them with his sexuality, and Yuto never was one to back down.

“You been here often or what?” He asked, going for suggestive but Masaki just tilted his head back with a lazy laugh, before rolling his head back to look at Yuto with those dazed eyes.

“I'd recommend Taiga.” He said, glancing at Keito just in time for the traumatized expression following his words, then smiled and raised the cigarette back to his lips. “Damn can that boy suck.”

“I'm not gonna pay for a blowjob, I can get that whenever I want.” Yuto rolled his eyes, but Masaki didn't budge.

“Not one like these. I'll pay for you.” He offered with a lopsided grin, and that was that.

The private room Yuto found himself in was filled with textiles, draped around the walls and over lamps, warm colours of red and orange and purple enveloping him and he almost got the intended feeling of a historic rich man's chamber. The bedsheets were silk, red, and Yuto almost decided to walk out since it was just too cliché, but then remembered Masaki's promise to pay for “the best one he could have.” In his drunken logic, he figured this blowjob was technically free, and you don't turn down a free blowjob.

He sat down on the bed, expecting one of the boys from the club floor, probably too young to even be there. But then the door opened and Yuto's breath caught in his throat.

The man who stepped inside looked older, somewhere around Yuto's own age, heart shaped face but jawline sharp and veins obvious on his hands, reminding of his masculinity despite the genderless beauty of his face. Dark kohl around his eyes made them look chocolate rather than black, glittering like diamonds in the dim lighting, lips plush and pink and his skin flawless, extending down into the deep v left uncovered by the cream white kimono. The garment was exquisite, not a fake one from cheap stores like those Yuto'd seen on the dance floor, crisp fabric painted in delicious gold swirls and deep red flowers.

The man looked him over for a long moment, as if assessing him, then bowed carefully in greeting, a gold earring gleaming in the light under softly styled cinnamon hair.

Yuto almost forgot to breathe, the silence only broken by soft steps and rustling fabric as the man came up to him and gracefully sank to his knees between Yuto's spread legs. He was even more beautiful up close. Lashes so long and skin looking so soft, the scent exuding from him floral but not too much, rather made Yuto want to press his face into that neck to feel more.

Gentle hands reached out for the fastenings of Yuto's pants, and Yuto was surprised to learn how hard he'd become, blaming the scent or the alcohol or that beautiful fucking face that could barely pass as a boy despite being so obviously manly.

The second those full lips touched him through a flimsy layer of latex he was lost. His voice creating sounds he'd never made before under that skilled mouth, his eyes glued to the piece of art of a face where eyes kept glancing up at him under lashes like they needed to make sure he enjoyed what he received. The blowjob was somehow gentle, classy despite involving tongue and hollowed cheeks and it made Yuto feel dirty, almost unworthy. It only turned him on more to use this beautiful porcelain doll for his own selfish pleasure, made him want to grab chucks of that perfectly styled hair and thrust forward, spray his come all over that pretty face.

But he knew he couldn't. No touching.

Yuto sighs as he rises from his office chair and starts heading for the elevator, the annoying start of an erection in his pants. He vividly remembers the frustration of an orgasm intense enough to claim his breath and make him fist the sheets, but then there was nothing, only a gross condom and a coy little smile. How he'd watched the beautiful man rise, bow his head and wet his red lips before turning to leave the room. How he'd wanted to throw him down, press him into the silky sheets and rip his kimono open, rub off on him, fuck him, paint his flawless skin with his own come. Crack that dignified façade and make him desperately moan Yuto's name.

Masaki's smug face when he returned almost made Yuto want to turn and leave immediately, but he had to know.

“You had a good time, I can tell.” Masaki chuckled, scrutinizing Yuto's face where he could still feel the persistent flush of arousal.

“Who was that?” Yuto countered, not bothering that he sounded desperate because he needed to know how to find him again.

“That.” Masaki smiled, pausing to inhale a drag from his new cigarette, the glow illuminating the smug look on his face. “Was Ryosuke, and you better have had the best fucking blowjob of your life considering what it cost me.”

Only then Yuto learned how exclusive he should feel. That Ryosuke was the most expensive one in the entire club, that he was never available and Yuto only got him by chance because someone else cancelled. That Masaki had hesitated because it was so much money, but then decided it was worth it to successfully turn Yuto gay. Yuto accordingly slapped him and said there was no way, but secretly he felt so confused he didn't know what to do. In the end, he decided to try and forget it and drank himself wasted.

The thing was he couldn't forget. He woke up the next morning after a dream about diamond eyes and smooth skin, and at first he couldn't place them. But when he recalled the encounter from the night before he felt disgusting, stumbling into the shower to try and wash the itch off his feverish skin. He couldn't believe he let Masaki pay for some whore boy to suck him off, swearing to himself under the hot stream as he frantically scrubbed his skin pink. He shouldn't drink around Masaki, definitely shouldn't smoke questionable cigarettes around him. Shouldn't take on his repulsive challenges.

Yuto brushes his train card against the reader, welcoming the cooling breeze as he walks towards his platform. He shouldn't think about things regarding him in public, he knows he shouldn't. But with every day it becomes harder to keep from doing it, and he finds his cheeks flushing and his skin tingling more often in entirely inappropriate situations. He's just started to associate, he figures, because all he needs now is to think about hooded eyes for flickers of arousal to spark through his blood.

The first few days after the club night, Yuto did all he could not to think about that man and what he'd done. He even asked out a co-worker that had been eyeing him for months just to feel normal again, to boost his self confidence as an expensive date usually did.

But it did the opposite. He wasn't attracted to that woman, despite her long shiny hair and the way her legs looked in heels, but he refused to let himself even think that he was more interested in short cinnamon hair and a floating kimono. It was stupid to drink more wine to get through it, to let her flirt way more than he was interested in, to only realize that it'd gone too far when he already had a tongue in his mouth and a bra clasp under his fingers.

The sex was terrible, but Yuto couldn't even be bothered when she slipped into her dress and left without much of a goodbye. He was so busy trying to figure out what the hell had happened to him, so frustrated he felt like punching something, and as a midnight decision he figured to hell with it. He'd just have to go back to that expensive ass whore boy and see if he really was such an epiphany in Yuto's sex life that he could never fuck anyone else.

It wasn't the easiest thing to track himself backwards far enough to find the right place, since he refused to ask Masaki, but once he stepped down stairs into a dimly lit red isle he knew he was there.

“I want Ryosuke.” He told the bartender, whose eyes widened and he quickly left to get someone else.

A man with light flashy hair, a purple velvet suit and a sassy cigarette in hand, looking Yuto over once with a skeptical eyebrow raised.

“What are you, a salaryman? Do you think you have the funds for what you're asking?” He said, and it was so condescending Yuto's jaw clenched in anger.

“How much is it?” He asked, putting on his business face because hell he was going to have to pay now. But the apprehension of superstar Masaki finding it expensive was still floating around at the back of his mind, and he couldn't help gaping a little when the terms were spoken.

100 000 yen per every half hour. A contract with restrictions signed upon payment. Personal information saved in case of violation of the contract.

Yuto was very tempted to take his wallet and walk away, snort at the ridiculous price and forget about it. But the frustration itching in his body, the anger at being looked down upon and the smokey red air made him do the opposite, drawing his phone from his pocket to transfer money from a savings account. He swore to himself that it would be a one time thing, just to get it out of his system and experience it in a less intoxicated state.

The room was the same, but Yuto couldn't relax, too high strung on his adrenaline and the money he just recklessly spent for a precious 30 minutes with a beautiful stranger invading his mind.

The soft knock on the door before it opened had his heart speeding up, blood pulsing in his ears and he wasn't even sure what made him react so violently.

The kimono was red like sin, white and yellow flowers with green branches printed onto it, but Yuto's eyes were drawn to the living piece of art rather than the material one.

Dark eyes widened in recognition as they saw him, mouth opening in surprise before the expression softened into the same pliant one he remembered.

Yuto couldn't remember ever being as desperate as he felt for the beautiful man before him, his hands clutching at expensive fabric until strong legs straddled him on the bed, Yuto's face finally pressed against tan skin, inhaling flowery perfume while brushing hungry lips against that tempting neck.

Yuto recalled the events earlier that night, when he'd had another warm body in his lap that had done nothing for his hormones, and the way he couldn't pull this man close enough almost disgusted him but he craved it so bad. The conflicting feelings only fuelled his desperation, hands relocating to rip the obi open, anxious to touch more skin. A surprised gasp as he firmly grabbed hips to relocate them, the kimono fluttering softly against the matching red sheets as it fell apart to reveal a flawless naked body and Yuto couldn't get enough. What had never been attractive to him before was all he could think of, defined muscles and strong legs, sharp angles and the smell of precome mixed in with that floral scent.

Somewhere at the back of his mind he couldn't help but finding it repulsive, and his touches got harsher, kisses to smooth skin turning into bites every time it hit him what he was actually doing. The necessary preparation work was already done, and he shuddered as he pressed inside, somehow tighter than any girl he'd ever fucked but at the same time so used.

The first of his moans had Yuto clawing at tan skin, the voice emitting the sound so beautiful, so breathy and the note so high all he wanted was to hear it again and again. It felt real even though he knew it must be fake, a breathy desperate moan and furrowed brow with every rough thrust, smooth skin sliding against red silk. Yuto felt filthy, his own breathing harsh and loud, only his pants undone and shoved down enough to be functional, sweat beading at his temples while the same substance was merely a sheen on the flawless skin beneath him.

His hand was shaking the slightest as he reached down to wrap fingers around the first erection he ever touched that wasn't his own, but the reward in the form of thrashing and lewd moaning made him more confident. The face of bliss as the cock in his grip pulsed would come to haunt him, parted red lips and flushed cheeks, closed eyes and eyelashes so long, eyeliner slightly smudged.

His own orgasm made his hips stutter pathetically, groaning out loud as he emptied himself as deep inside as he could, pretending there was no condom in the way to keep him from marking his territory.

Afterwards, he found himself sitting on the dirty stairs up to a road crossing, staring into nothing with thoughts spinning in his head. Thoughts of what the hell he'd done, how he could be so stupid, _gross_ , to pay insane amounts of money just to fuck some pretty boy. How he could enjoy feeling like a creepy old man perving on something beautiful, how he let his cravings run away with him, fantasies he never before let surface consuming him. He leaned his head against the cold metal hand rail, trying to cool both brain and body, skin still tingling in some kind of frustrated itch that just wouldn't go away, and he knew he'd have to do it again.

Yuto exits the train to the familiar jingle of his station, easily navigating through the late commuters until he's out of the station and on his way home. The evening air is refreshing, the uncomfortable feeling of his skin threatening to heat up soothed as he walks the couple of blocks home.

He unlocks his front door with a sigh of relief, finally able to step out of his serious businessman role. He throws his coat over the couch on his way to the bedroom, the urges to look at that beautiful man finally something he can cater to.

The bedroom is dark and cool, the air conditioner providing a decent temperature the only sound in the otherwise quiet apartment. Yuto's fingers tingle as he reaches out for the switch on the desk lamp, the well tamed arousal that's been bubbling inside him for more than an hour finally rushing freely through his body.

The light falls on the desk, on the shiny finish of photographs he just received back from printing, and on the bulletin board on the wall filled with similar ones. Every single photo is different, a slightly different angle, light, time, but the model is always the same.

Yamada Ryosuke.

Yuto's fingertips shake the slightest as he brushes the glossy surface of the freshest ones, so happy he decided to get that telephoto lens as a Christmas gift for himself last year.

Ryosuke's wearing a black T-shirt with a low cut v-neck and probably sweatpants, Yuto's not entirely sure. His hair is soft, unstyled and Yuto just wants to twist his fingers in it and pull.

He's cooking in the photos, reaching for something in a cupboard in one, stirring a pot in another, putting dishes in the sink in a third. The lighting is better the closer he is to the window, but Yuto doesn't really care. He's there.

He's got several other sets, in a red T-shirt with his laptop, on the street heading home, on the street heading out, getting out of the shower in only sweatpants and wet hair.

Yuto glances up at his favourite set, which honestly surprises even himself, because Ryosuke's fully styled, fully clothed and it's the middle of the day. He's heading out somewhere, wearing a red leather jacket and tight black jeans, phone in hand and slipping his sunglasses on as he leaves. It's just so casually attractive and Yuto's never looked at a man and felt such an urge to be the reason he went out.

It wasn't hard to find where he lives. The hard part was deciding to actually do it, his morals protesting the whole idea.

But after Yuto went the third time, he had no choice.

Royal purple silk still clung to strong shoulders as Yuto took his sweet time pulling moans from those plush lips, spending his hour to the fullest. The tips of cinnamon bangs sticking together with sweat, eyes a little glazed and Yuto couldn't get enough of the wanton facial expression, broken moans and wet filthy sounds of his slow, deep thrusts. Then a moan came out that seemed like it could have been intended as a word, and fire rushed through Yuto's body at the idea, almost subconsciously grabbing wrists and pinning them to the bed.

“Say my name.” He demanded, his voice a low growl that he barely recognized from himself, but the power of controlling this beautiful creature did things to him he barely wanted to acknowledge.

Beautiful diamond eyes focused on him, breath stabilizing the slightest as lips parted to form the first words Yuto ever heard him speak.

“I don't know it.” His voice was as rich as his moans intended, but deeper, like velvet, and Yuto's hips gave the roughest thrust he'd dared so far without his intention.

“Yuto.” He got out, almost not even remembering his own name under the attention of those eyes, a slower, deeper thrust following the word and eyes fluttered closed as back arched.

“Yuto...” A half breathed version of his name touched the air and Yuto's orgasm tumbled over him, unexpected and unwanted, but his body couldn't help itself.

The word ended up echoing in his head from the second he left the room, and even if it hadn't been his intention to linger, he did. Waited, long chilly hours of thoughts spinning in his head, the floral scent clinging to his skin making him want to scratch it raw to make it go away, but still make it stay.

He was surprised to see Ryosuke wearing jeans and a leather jacket, surprised since all he'd ever seen him in were kimonos worthy of a fairytale prince, but at the same time the contrast was strangely hot. Yuto couldn't help staring at the enchanting smile on plush lips as he chatted with someone leaving with him, someone skinny with bleached blonde hair. Yuto didn't care.

Following the car was easy in the barely existent traffic at 2:30 in the morning, just enough cars for it not to be obvious he was tailing the black luxurious Toyota.

The car pulled over at an apartment complex in a finer area, but Yuto was still surprised that it wasn't better considering the money he must earn.

Ryosuke got out of the car and waved goodbye to his driver, phone in his hand catching his attention as he walked up to the front door and inside.

Yuto had never felt as creepy as when he waited for him to disappear into the elevator before slipping up to the door, looking at the residents list and finding the only name it could possibly be. Yamada Ryosuke, 7th floor. He got back out on the pavement, glancing up at the building, and the smile finding his lips when he saw lights switching on in the corner apartment on the 7th floor wasn't something he was proud of. Because opposite the building was a multistorey car park and Yuto already knew what to use his so far new telephoto lens for.

The result is kept here safely in his bedroom, and Yuto glances at the well used camera sitting on the desk, for a moment considering going out tonight as well. But then his eyes inevitably trail back to the photographs in front of him, lingers on strong muscles, focused facial expression and soft hair. He sighs as he sits down in the chair to look closer, more or less consciously leaning back as his hand reaches for the fastenings of his pants. He's not going anywhere tonight.

The following days, Yuto's definitely charging himself up more than he's consciously aware of.

The three days it takes before he can finally look at the perfect 103 451 yen in his account never seem to end. His skin itches, his concentration is terrible and he snaps at innocent kouhai at work in pure frustration. His hand is the only relief he can get, imagining beautiful eyes and smooth skin and how he'd mark it up as his own and he can't get enough. Can't wait.

Then it's finally time.

He gets the same room as always, even though this time the man in the velvet suit gave him a long, evaluating look as his card was stripped of its contents. But Yuto's skills of acting unbothered under scrutiny are perfected due to work, and no questions were asked.

But now that he's finally inside, safely closed in a red room that will let no secrets out, he relaxes his poker face and his restlessness comes out.

At first he sits down on the bed, but his whole body is buzzing with adrenaline and he has to get up, starting to pace the room in lack of other things to distract himself with.

He's waited so long he can't wait much more, so high strung his fingers are trembling and his vision keeps zoning out of focus whenever he doesn't think about it. His inner vision shows him much better things, things like bare skin and parted lips.

With the soft knock on the door, Yuto's heart goes crazy, and he draws a deep breath to try and calm down but he can't.

The kimono is black, beautiful birds painted onto his shoulders with tail feathers floating down the sleeves, but all Yuto sees is the recognition in those eyes he's been seeing in his mind what feels like every minute of every day. The make-up is fresh, flawless, enhancing his beauty and he's somehow even prettier than Yuto remembers just because he's real, breathing, familiar floral scent surrounding him as he gently closes the door behind him.

Yuto acts before he thinks, and a shocked gasp passes plush glossy lips as Yuto harshly presses him up against the door. He draws a long shaky breath as he inhales the scent of that smooth tanned skin, rubbing his face against his neck and cheek, pressing even closer just to feel the body heat against his own and he's already so hard it's painful.

His fingers curl in crisp silk as his lips wander along jawline, temple, cheek, and Yuto wants to kiss his lips so bad, bite the lipgloss off them and leave them bruised and used, but the first clause of the contract he signed was no kissing on the mouth. But that just makes him want to do it more.

Instead, he raises shaky fingers to those lips, pressing to smear the sticky substance covering them, then watches how slutty it looks as the gloss is spread down his chin and at the corner of his mouth.

Yuto growls as a tongue peeks out to brush the pads of his fingers before they're drawn into that filthy mouth, the tiny scratch of teeth sending jolts of heat through his body as his fingers are given the treatment worthy of a blowjob. Yuto's own mouth won't stay closed, lips parted to be able to properly breathe as he stares. At lips wrapped tightly around his fingers, at the stretch of neck to accommodate the angle, at the way the golden earring gleams in the dim light and he's so ready.

He pulls his fingers free without warning, eliciting a dirty wet sound as they leave lips and saliva follows, blending with the lipgloss already smeared on flawless skin.

The expression on that pretty face is passive, always passive, waiting for what Yuto's planning to do with him and the power surges through Yuto's veins.

He wraps his wet fingers around a wrist, relishing in dirtying that flawless skin, and drags him along to the bed in a rustle of silk fabric.

He more or less throws the shorter man down on the bed, earning a breathless sound as back hits mattress, but Yuto doesn't care as he crawls on top, grinding down as legs pliantly fall apart for him.

His own groan comes out loud and shameless as his erection gets some friction, and even though he's intending to spend his hard received hour to the fullest, he already knows he's not going to last long in this state.

His hand slips under the golden obi of the kimono, easily ripping open the velcro that's the only real clue into this costume being meant to be taken off, then takes his time grasping the edges of the garment and spreading it open.

His eyes immediately zone in on a mark he's not seen before, what looks like a single shallow scratch mark almost healed across his hipbone, and Yuto's fingers find it without his consent, absorbed by the sudden flaw and where it could have come from.

There's a sharp inhale as his fingers brush along it, but it's more discomfort than pain, and Yuto's surprised to find his wrist grasped by a bracelet decorated hand and his hand guided away, lower, splayed out over a thigh instead. He glances up as his fingers grasp at the warmth beneath them, but he just finds eyes closed and lips parted as hips roll up, making his fingers slide higher on the thigh they were placed and Yuto figures to hell with it.

He uses both hands to undo his pants, sighing as his erection gets more space and shudders as he watches the body beneath him arch in anticipation. He can't keep his hands from wandering, sliding up toned abs to muscular chest, snagging nipples and earning a moan that's filthy enough that he has to lean in and try the same thing with his mouth.

There's an almost mewling sound as Yuto swirls his tongue around a stiff nipple, and his own erection twitches as the inside of a thigh impatiently brushes the outside of his own. But he doesn't let up entirely, teases with teeth first before blowing air onto the saliva he spread, his hands holding hips down as they try to push up. He moves to the other nipple, enjoying the high notes slipping over dirty lips as he repeats the treatment, if a little rougher. His own erection hangs heavy between his legs, twitching and aching to be released from his underwear, but the torture of waiting a little longer is so good.

As there's a half cry breathed he can't take it anymore, reaches for the provided condoms and sits back, looking down at the flush spreading over beautiful skin, the shallow breathing moving the muscular torso and making saliva covered nipples shine in the warm lighting.

Yuto groans as he slowly drags his underwear down, enjoying the brush of the harsh elastic against his hypersensitive skin before hurrying to fumble the condom on while hazy, heavy lidded eyes watch him.

He tries not to stroke himself but it's difficult with how turned on he is, his fingers sliding up and down his erection a few times more than needed before he reaches out to grab onto strong thighs, smearing lubrication from the condom as he does. He tugs and pulls until he's satisfied, hooking smooth legs around his torso before reaching down to guide himself right, hissing as he finds the slick hole and starts pressing inside the impossibly tight heat.

Hands fist red silk as teeth bite into that full lower lip, and Yuto can tell that it hurts but he doesn't mind. It makes him feel big and strong and hard to take and that's disturbingly hot as he keeps slowly forcing his way inside, heat clawing at his entire body from how it's so fucking _good_.

He groans deeply as he bottoms out, hips meeting the back of thighs as his erection is massaged by muscles nobody should be able to control, and he's trembling with how much he wants to move. But he waits out the frown on the beautiful face, rubs hands along legs, scratches so lightly there would be no marks and eventually, a sigh is breathed as body relaxes.

Yuto's first thrust is slow and deep, so deep he loses his breath as he pushes as far in as he can, then claims it back with a breathy gasp that sounds so helpless he's ashamed of himself. The response is a low, drawn out moan and bucking hips, making Yuto unable to keep from speeding up despite wanting to last as long as possible.

The sound of skin slapping against skin, of slick sliding and filthy moaning makes his heart race and the arousal gushes through his veins, threatening to claim him at any second and it pisses him off more than it turns him on.

It makes him grab on tighter, thrust harder even though he tries to keep it slow enough not to come. But he can't help but look down, watch how tan skin looks pale in comparison to the black silk beneath, how the flush crawls down muscular chest and thick lips are parted for loud moans, the hard erection curling against toned stomach.

His growl is mostly frustration as he feels his nerves starting to short circuit, and his thrusts turn rapid and irregular as his orgasm washes over him, forceful and uncomfortable and somehow not even satisfying.

He catches his breath with a few slow, deep ones, staying spent and gross right where he is before reaching down.

He feels the contractions around his softening erection as he wraps fingers tightly around the hard one beneath him, the reaction beautiful as head is thrown back and lips part further.

“Does it feel good?” Yuto finds himself asking, leaning down to talk closer to his ear, tongue slipping out against the golden piercing.

“Mmm yes.”

The words are breathy, but the voice is still as deep and rich as Yuto remembers and he shudders, getting too turned on too fast but he doesn't care.

“I want you to moan my name.” He says, more of an order than a question, and dark eyes flutter open to look at him.

“Remind me?” The words are soft, gentle almost, but something feral ignites in Yuto's chest with them and one stroke becomes harsher than could possibly feel good, the hand holding himself up fisting the sheet.

“ _Yuto._ ” He growls, and the response is a pained whine but it's just good. Anything to make him remember it.

“Yuto.” The word repeated in that rich voice, and Yuto's tension fades, his mind filling up with how his name sounds like that, moaned and desperate like he's the best lover in the world, arousal prickling over his skin.

“Yuto...” Falls over lips again and Yuto already forgave him, a little more every time his name is used, pitching higher and losing more breath as Yuto strokes the erection in his hand, rubbing his lips against all the skin he can reach. Eventually he returns to the pierced earlobe, fascinated with the texture difference of cool metal against warm skin, and as the moans turn more desperate he gets more abusive, catching the jewellery with his teeth and pulling.

Only half of his name comes out with the final moan, bordering on a whimper, and Yuto shudders as the sound seems to go through his entire body like electricity, his erection mostly hard again as body clamps down on it and come spurts hot over Yuto's fingers.

He slowly thrusts in and out a few times to endure the impossible tightness, and he can't take his eyes off the transparent white dripping from his fingers for a couple long moments, wishing he could see his own on that skin instead.

He leans forward again, shamelessly cupping that beautiful face with his sticky hand, stroking back styled cinnamon hair and the response is only a shaky breath and fluttering eyelashes.

“Beautiful...” Yuto speaks without thinking, and those eyes open to look at him, a curious expression in them that he hasn't seen before, but he's more interested in the smeared substance across his cheek and temple, making his hair stick together where there are tiny white lumps visible.

“Suck me off.” He goes on, the vision before him good enough to pretend it could be his own come sprayed across that beautiful face.

But as he lies back, a new condom on and red lips wrapped tight around his erection, sticky hair hanging forward, he can't entirely lose himself in the fantasy, can't help but think about the half healed scratch and how his name wasn't remembered. The possession claws out of him involuntarily, his hand grasping chunks of hair as he thrusts up, and even though there's a small cough at first, there's no further protest as Yuto uses him as he pleases.

He comes inside that sinful mouth but it's not good enough, he wants more, wants for his come to be swallowed, to paint that face and come all over him. Claim him as his own.

As Yuto leaves, he feels worse than he ever has, entirely unsatisfied despite a total of three orgasms, a third jerked out of him minutes before he was sternly ordered to leave. He's still turned on, skin still tingling but his mind is a mess, pictures of that beauty moaning for someone else surfacing without his consent. But despite knowing all along that he's not the only one fucking that, the idea disgusts him, pisses him off and he can't let it go.

He sleeps terribly that night, and the result is a disastrous presentation at work in the morning, and he even gets an inquiry from his colleague if he's feeling unwell. But he just brushes it off, angry with himself for not being able to snap out of it, to focus on his real life.

But images keep coming back to him, an unhealed scratch surfacing as he's supposed to interpret a diagram,dark eyes fluttering open and the words “remind me” spinning in his head as he goes for lunch break with a few colleagues.

He has to stay over since he didn't get much done during the day, but he doesn't mind. He's got time to spend before he can do what he wants anyway.

He knows he's early when he steps out of his parked car, walking across the concrete to his perfect viewing spot. It's only a little past ten and he's usually never home before one a.m, but Yuto only feels restless at home so he might as well be here. At least there's night air and he can smoke cigarettes without anyone bothering him.

But as he finds his usual spot, eyes finding the familiar windows across the street, he's surprised to find the lights on, and he can see people inside the kitchen. Two people.

He suddenly feels cold as he fumbles to get the camera out of the protective bag, slipping the strap over his neck and drops the lens cap in his stress to get it off. He raises the camera, irritated by the time it takes him to zoom in where he wants to be as he rests his arms on the frame of the concrete cut out window he's standing by.

When he's finally in the right spot, he pauses, brain running on high alert trying to figure out what's going on.

Ryosuke is there, smiling, a beautiful smile Yuto's never seen before and he's so mesmerized he almost forgets to look for the context. He's leaning against the kitchen counter, looking at the person that has their back to Yuto. It's definitely a man, the shoulders are broad and the hair short, but he's not very tall, probably Ryosuke's own height. They're talking, obviously, and Yuto's finger presses down on the shutter to snap a picture of that gorgeous smile even if he can only think of the expression as one he doesn't want to acknowledge.

There's a laugh and the other man comes closer, stepping up right in front of Ryosuke and sets his hands on either side of him on the counter, efficiently trapping him between his arms. Yuto can see his profile now and he makes a face. The man is not that pretty, a bit of a baby face and he barely looks 25, smiling like a dork and entirely unworthy of the smile meeting him.

Yuto's heart is beating uncomfortably loud in his ears, fingers shaking and he finds himself terrified of what's going to happen.

Inevitably, the man leans in, and Yuto wants to close his eyes, drop the camera, but he physically can't as lips meet lips, Ryosuke's arms raising to wrap around the other man's neck as he kisses back like he was just waiting to be kissed.

Yuto waits for it to go further, for hands to tug at clothes, but it doesn't happen, there's just a long, slow kiss without any urgency. Yuto forgets to snap a picture. He can only stare at how this ugly stupid man is allowed to kiss those lips that Yuto can't have, at how Ryosuke kisses back like it's all he ever wanted, a visible sigh as he parts his lips to let a foreign tongue enter his mouth.

It's disgusting, even more so as the awful kiss finally breaks and they smile at each other, and Yuto even thinks Ryosuke's blushing as he says something to the other man.

The other smiles back, then leans in to press another soft kiss against his lips before he starts drawing back. But Ryosuke stops him with a hand on his arm, follows for another kiss, one that lingers a little longer, before the other man steps back with a laugh and says something.

His hand finds Ryosuke's on his own arm, gently squeezing it once before letting go, and he leaves with a soft smile and a few words.

Ryosuke stands there, leaning against the counter and looks in the direction of the man disappearing behind a door frame for a couple of moments, then raises a hand to his lips with a smile, looking like he can't believe what happened, expression unmistakable. Yuto drops his camera then, and it barely even hurts when it hits his stomach because his mind can only focus on one thing.

Ryosuke is in love with that man.

Yuto sits on the concrete floor for longer than he wants to admit, alternating staring into nothing with staring at the smile he captured on camera. When he finally picks himself up to go home, he's cold and stiff and his mind is still stormy. He knows he probably shouldn't drive right now, but he needs to get home.

He loses another night's sleep, falling in and out of feverish dreams of brilliant smiles, long slow kisses mixed in with almost healed scratches and whispers of Yuto's own name in a velvet voice.

He feels almost like a zombie when he gets up to go to work, and he even considers calling in sick but he can't find the energy.

“Nakajima.” He glances up at the familiar voice, but he's not used to it being that stern. “We need a word.”

Yuto's boss looks serious, lips a thin line and eyebrows knit together, making him look older than he is. Yuto obediently follows, but he's not even nervous as the office door closes behind him. Being called into his boss' office three months ago would have definitely raised his pulse, but for now he just wishes it to be over so he can go back to mindless computer work and think about more important things.

“Is something the matter?” He asks, but not even his act of concern is quite on point.

“You know I'm fond of you Nakajima.” His boss starts, voice low and serious, and Yuto frowns. “So I'll be straight with you. There's been several instances of money disappearing from affairs you've been managing. Do you know anything about that?”

Stern eyes fix on him, and Yuto blinks once. “No? Should I?”

There's a tired sigh, and the silence stretches on, but Yuto doesn't speak even though he knows there's proof.

“Let me give you a piece of advice, Nakajima.” His boss says finally, sitting down on the edge of his desk as he looks at Yuto like he's disappointed. “Make sure the money returns before the end of the week, and I'll be ready to overlook this. Otherwise, this might have to become a legal issue.”

Yuto doesn't react at first, but then nods once as he's kept under close scrutiny.

“You're dismissed.”

Yuto bows politely and leaves the office, but the reason his heart is beating hard now isn't that he can't return the money, or the threat of facing legal repercussions from his actions. It's that he won't be able to get more.

He's impossibly restless when he comes home, pacing his apartment, trying to think of alternate ways to get money, but images keep popping up in his head to ruin his concentration, slow kisses and smiles. Every time, he needs to shake his head and get up, walking to find an outlet for his frustration.

What does that man possibly have that Yuto doesn’t. He still can't figure it out even if the question has been gnawing at him for 24 hours. Nothing. There's simply nothing.

He wants to go there, his skin burning with all kinds of strange emotions, and he even tries to jerk off but it only makes him feel worse. But there's no money, his savings emptied since long ago and the stolen money spent, and he knows he won't be able to get inside without any money. He wouldn't be surprised if the man in velvet carried a gun under that ugly suit jacket.

But, he figures, throwing a jacket on and forgetting to lock his front door. There's another way.

It's painfully easy to get inside the house. He just stands there looking at the residents list like he's looking for a name, and a woman comes up and asks if he's going inside.

He thanks her with a smile and she lets him in, shares the elevator with him but gets off on the 4th floor. Yuto goes to the 7th, but hesitates for a moment as the doors open before him, presenting a hallway of dark wooden doors and a red carpet on the floor.

But the kiss flashes in his mind again and his steps are determined as he walks along the hall to find the four kanji he's looking for. It's the last door on the right, and Yuto finds himself staring at the name tag for several minutes, a moment of sanity hitting him as he wonders what he's doing.

But he needs this.

His finger is slightly shaky as he reaches out to press the doorbell, hearing it resound inside. He has no idea if anyone is home, if he's alone, but he figures it doesn't matter. If no one is there he'll just wait.

He purposely steps aside, making sure he's not visible through the peephole, just in case.

His pulse speeds up as there's a metallic sound from inside, the lock being turned, and then the door opens.

Yuto's heart stops as he looks at Ryosuke, wearing black sweatpants and a worn band T-shirt, his hair natural and slightly moist like it would be after a shower, face completely free of make-up but it almost makes him more beautiful.

His facial expression goes from surprised to alarmed in just a second, and Yuto notices his hand on the door handle tightening, pulling the door closer to himself.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, voice fierce and Yuto is so unused to it he just blinks. “Leave. You can't be here.”

“I just-” Yuto starts, but then cuts himself off, throwing himself between the door and the doorframe as it's about to be closed, hissing when the door hits him full force across his shoulder blade.

It hurts and the pain only fuels his anger at being thrown out without a chance of explaining himself, and he sees those pretty eyes widening in fear as he pushes his way inside the apartment.

Ryosuke backs away, cautious eyes not leaving Yuto even as he stumbles a little, clearly reaching for the stylish chest of drawers in the hall that holds a lamp and a plant.

Yuto firmly closes the door behind him, following Ryosuke like he's magnetically drawn to him, and he catches him just as he gets a drawer open and tries to reach into it. Yuto grabs for what he can, fisting the old shirt and firmly tugs him away from there, glancing over his shoulder into the drawer to see what he was after. There's a mess of small things, keys and lip balms and cards, but there's also something electronic that looks suspiciously alike an alarm he's seen in women's purses before.

Yuto uses the momentum he has to push him back up against the pretty wallpaper next to the coat hangers, the impact giving a low thunk and it seems to force Ryosuke's breath out of him, eyes wide in panic as Yuto presses up close against him.

He smells differently, wrong, a much manlier cologne that's spicy and rich and nothing like the sweet flowers he's used to. He's also anything but pliant, and even though Yuto's grip relocates to his upper arms he can't hold him still, arms breaking free to harshly shove him backwards. Yuto stumbles enough for Ryosuke to slip away, under his arm and towards the doorway just a little further away.

He growls in irritation and follows, finding the room to be the kitchen he's well familiar with, and Ryosuke's reaching for a cell phone on the countertop across from the stove. He's fast but Yuto's tall and it's an advantage as he manages to get a hold of his shirt from behind, pulling him backwards so sharply he chokes on the collar and stumbles, fingertips barely brushing the phone.

Ryosuke throws a sharp elbow backwards and it hits Yuto's side hard, and he's so done with struggling when all he wants is what he usually gets. His eyes fall on the strongly lit kitchen counter, on the half chopped peppers and the thick knife lying forgotten next to them. He reaches out for it, but there's another attempt at fending him off and he loses his balance, just managing to drag it to the edge before he tumbles onto the floor with Ryosuke beneath him.

It hurts, limbs not exactly where they should be, but he hears a metallic clatter next to him and reaches out, and Ryosuke barely manages to get his hands onto the floor to get up before there's a knife against his throat.

“Stay still.” Yuto mumbles, and he feels the body underneath him freezing, breathing quick and shaky with fear.

Yuto sighs as he can finally take his time as he wanted, leaning forward to brush his lips against the shell of Ryosuke's ear, noticing the golden ring is now a crystal stud.

“Much better...” He speaks against his ear, but the reaction is a not what he's used to, Ryosuke reflexively tilting his head away but then a small pained sound comes out as his skin touches the edge of the knife.

It's disappointing, but Yuto doesn't really care, his skin burning with the need of having him again, inhaling the new scent and tries to get used to it. He's so hard he's throbbing in his pants, and he shifts a little so that he entirely covers Ryosuke's back, his erection rubbing against his ass through his pants.

There's a sharp gasp and a small panicked sound as Yuto sits back enough to support his weight on his knees instead of his hands.

“No no no, please no!” Comes a desperate plea as Yuto's hand reaches for the knot on those sweatpants, rubbing his erection against an asscheek as he does and it feels sinfully good.

Yuto just hushes him because he can't see what the difference is, what there is to be scared of. It'll feel good, as it always does.

It takes a little effort to pull down sweatpants and underwear with one hand, but he's got time and it works out. Ryosuke tries to shift away from him, but he just presses the knife closer to his skin, earning a tiny red line as he does and he stays still.

“Please stop, please. Please...” Comes another broken request, almost a whimper, but Yuto ignores it in favour of the smooth skin revealed before him, and he quickly unzips his own pants and gets his rock hard erection out.

Ryosuke's pleas for him to stop get more urgent as Yuto positions his erection, broken whispers replaced with screams of panic but Yuto just barks at him to shut up. His voice is beautiful, but he doesn't want to hear complaints. Something is different, and he realizes as he tries to push inside that there's obviously no preparation work done. But the tip of his erection is already slick with precome and he figures it'll help.

Ryosuke's scream is heart rendering as Yuto forcefully thrusts inside, the sound icing his blood for a second before the arousal overtakes it. He made it halfway inside despite the friction opposing him, but as he pushes deeper inside it gets easier, something wet and hot helping along.

Ryosuke's every breath is a whine, some a sob, his body trembling and it's not what Yuto would have liked but he's not that bothered. It still feels so good it makes him dizzy.

It gets easier to pull out and push in as he does it a couple of times, and it's so fucking tight he doesn't even know what to do, imagining Ryosuke's whimpers and half screams as pleasure bringing him so close so quickly.

His orgasm is so intense he almost drops the knife, losing himself in the feeling of coming inside him, no flimsy condom keeping him from painting him with the come he deserves. It finally feels satisfying, the heat ripping through his entire body as he groans loudly soothing the burn of his skin and he almost wishes he'd done this sooner.

It's not until he pulls out and the substance that follows isn't transparent but stark red that he realizes what his lubrication really was. It's a little nauseating, and he looks down to find his softening cock and the area around it covered in sticky red as well.

He quickly looks away, feeling sick suddenly, and he hurries to drag his underwear back up so he doesn't have to see it. His limbs are still a little shaky, and he relocates, shifts so that he manages to roll Ryosuke over onto his back while still keeping the knife against his neck, pressing the tip of the blade into the floor to help keep it steady.

What faces him is not what he's used to, tracks of tears streaming down smooth cheeks, eyes wide and terrified as they meet his. There are several red lines against his throat, one slightly darker and a blood drop forming from it, and Yuto feels bad for ruining what was flawless, but also powerful for being the one to do it. Mark it, claim it. Own it.

“Easy...” He says softly, leaning in to finally kiss those lips as comfort, but hands come up to push him off despite the threatening blade still brushing his neck.

“No!” Ryosuke sobs, new tears in his beautiful eyes and Yuto growls, forcefully grabbing one of the hands pushing at his chest and slams it back down against the floor, pressing the knife harder against his skin.

The second hand loses its power and Yuto leans down once again to press a kiss to those plush lips, tasting the salt from tears but the lips are so soft it doesn't matter. Except Ryosuke tries tilting his head away, sucking his lips into his mouth and Yuto wishes he'd just give up already. He lets go of the unresponsive hand and moves to cup his face, firmly but not roughly, forcing his head back straight and keeps him in place.

Finally, there's no protest, and Yuto sighs as he kisses soft lips, taking the bottom one between his own and flicks his tongue out. But there's no response at all, and it takes Yuto a moment to perceive the wet warmth quickly covering the hand holding the knife.

He pulls back, glancing down at beautiful eyes that can't see him, at the disturbingly large pool of red rapidly growing on the floor as it pulses from the deeper cut in that flawless neck.

Yuto stares for a few moments, as the pulsing starts to slow down, dropping the knife like it burnt him as he realizes what happened.

But then he draws a deep breath, inhaling the masculine scent and tries to ignore the tang of iron in it now, and he closes his eyes so he won't have to see the unfortunate picture before him. Then he cups that face in his hands, and leans down to press another kiss to warm, unresponsive lips. At least they're only his now.

 

 


End file.
